


this could be the way forward

by rvd



Category: You Could Make a Life Series - Taylor Fitzpatrick
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mafia AU, YCMAL Holiday Exchange 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rvd/pseuds/rvd
Summary: Francis has an idea of what Patrick does for a living, he can put two and two together and get four after all. It’s illegal if Patrick’s avoiding a paper trail, it pays well, and it’s dangerous. There are a couple ways that adds up and none of them are pleasant, but Francis puts it out of his mind. His job isn’t to speculate on his patients’ possible mafia connections. So Patrick comes in with bleeding gashes and missing teeth, and Francis sews him up and doesn’t ask. He’s one of the unluckiest people Francis has ever met, and he leaves it at that.Until Patrick shows up holding his guts in, that is.[Mafia AU]
Relationships: Patrick Drake (You Could Make a Life)/Francis Ito
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	this could be the way forward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aderin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aderin/gifts).



> For the 2020 YCMAL Holiday Exchange. 
> 
> Happy holidays! I based this on the prompt "Francis/Drake I would love a mafia au." Hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you Charlie for the beta!

The first couple times Patrick came in, Francis didn’t even know his name. The first time, he stitched up a deep gash on his forearm in five minutes, and the second, he set and splinted two of his fingers in fifteen. In both cases, he was in and out. Later, when Francis checked with the intake nurse Sarah, she confirmed he paid in cash and didn’t leave insurance information. He’s not the only person to come through their clinic like that, but it was the frequency that caught Francis’s eye. 

The third time was when he got his name, when Francis had had to cut off his sweatshirt to get to a slowly bleeding, festering wound on his shoulder that had been inexpertly and poorly sewn up. 

“Is this cotton thread?” Francis asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Polyester,” he’d admitted sheepishly, and Francis snorted. 

Francis sewed him back up and wrote him a script for an antibiotic, which was how he finally got his name. 

From then on, he saw Patrick every couple of weeks, patched him up and sent him on his way so many times he lost count, until Patrick just became the kind of regular Francis never expected to have at his little emergency clinic. 

Francis has an idea of what Patrick does for a living, he can put two and two together and get four after all. It’s illegal if Patrick’s avoiding a paper trail, it pays well, and it’s dangerous. There are a couple ways that adds up and none of them are pleasant. 

Patrick though… He’s friendly and funny, without the rough edges Francis would expect. Francis doesn’t understand how it fits together, but he puts it out of his mind. His job isn’t to speculate on his patients’ possible mafia connections, it’s to help them. So Patrick comes in with bleeding gashes and missing teeth, and Francis sews him up and doesn’t ask. He’s one of the unluckiest people Francis has ever met, and he leaves it at that. 

Until Patrick shows up holding his guts in, that is. 

The night starts out hectic. There’s a little girl with a broken arm, a woman with bronchitis, someone with what turns out to be a concussion, and so on and so on. By 2 am, things have quieted down a bit, but Francis is still about to see a patient when one of the other doctors on shift pulls him away, citing an emergency in the waiting room. 

Francis isn’t exactly surprised to see Patrick there when he comes out, but he is surprised to see him leaning heavily on another man his height, holding a gushing stomach wound with his free hand. 

“What’s going on?” 

Patrick looks up, and wavers on his feet but is coherent enough to say, “What’s up, doc?” Though he follows that up by laughing so hard he lurches and his friend almost drops him, so there’s a bad sign. 

“Dr. Ito,” Sarah says, catching his attention. She’s calm even under the immense pressure. “He asked for you specifically. I said Dr. Park was available but he insisted you see him.”

“Of course. It’s no problem.” To Patrick’s friend, he asks, “Can you help take him back to the exam room?” 

He can’t come around to Patrick’s other side without dislodging the pressure on his stomach, so he directs Patrick’s friend instead, guiding him to a secluded exam room in the back. Patrick manages to help himself up onto the table. Francis shoos away his friend when he lingers too long. 

“What happened?” Francis asks, flitting around the room looking for everything he needs. Surgical thread… shears… 

Patrick hesitates. 

“This stays between us,” Francis says, with a practiced patient urgency, “but I can’t help you unless I know whether or not I’m going to have to dig out a bullet.” 

“There’s not a bullet,” he says finally. 

“Patrick—” Francis says sharply. 

“I was stabbed, okay. That’s all I can tell you. Believe me, it’s all you want to know.”

Francis might agree with him there but only asks, “Do you know what kind of knife? Length?” 

“Does that matter?” Patrick asks, surprised. “Uh, one of those switchbacks. A couple inches at least, maybe three or four.”

Patrick’s much more lucid than he seemed five minutes ago, and while even a knife of that size can do some serious damage, Francis is finding it less and less likely any major organs were hit.

“I’m going to cut off your shirt now and examine the wound,” he warns, waiting for Patrick’s nod before going ahead. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Patrick says.

“Why don’t you let the medical professional decide that?” Francis asks, but honestly, getting a closer look at it now as he cleans the wound, it really doesn’t look as bad as it had when Patrick staggered in, hanging onto his friend like he was the only thing keeping him up and a hand on his guts like it was the only thing keeping them in. Francis had taken one look at him and had genuinely thought his regular was going to bleed out in his exam room. 

It’s a disconcerting thought, both for the image itself and how much it affects him. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?”

“We won’t have to amputate.”

Patrick snorts. 

“You were right after all, it could be much worse. I’m going to start on the sutures. It’s going to take a lot longer than you’re used to,” he warns, and Patrick makes a face. “If you don’t like it, don’t get stabbed again.”

“I’ll do my best, doc. Scout’s honor.” 

Francis laughs. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I don’t  _ try  _ to get stabbed. You know, I don’t go out there every day thinking about how I can make Dr. Ito’s day harder.” 

“You’re normally one of my better patients actually.” Patrick doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Francis says dryly, “Don’t take that as too much of an invitation. We could probably stand to see less of each other.”

Patrick laughs, though it gets cut off by a grunt. “Yeah, maybe,” he agrees. “But who else would treat me so nice?” 

Francis snorts and deftly finishes up the rest of the sutures. 

He starts cleaning up as Patrick says, “I deserve candy for this,” Patrick says. It’s a familiar refrain at this point. “You never have candy.”

“Well,” Francis says.

Patrick gapes at him. “Have you been holding out on me?” he demands. 

Francis dries his hands and pulls open a previously empty drawer. He holds up a bag of lollipops. “Do you have a preference?” 

“You’ve had lollipops in here this whole time?” Patrick asks eagerly. “You got any yellow?”

“They’re for the children usually,” Francis says dryly, passing one over. “But I’ll make an exception this time.” He’d actually gotten them not all that long ago with Patrick in mind, but he’ll keep that card close to his chest.

It’s worth it for the way Patrick grins at him as Francis finishes up dressing the wound, the stick of the lollipop hanging out of his mouth.

Francis walks him back out to the waiting room. He’s surprised to see Patrick’s buddy still waiting for him. While Francis passes Patrick’s file onto Sarah, Patrick and his friend do some complicated jostling that breaks up before Francis has to say anything about pulling his stitches. 

“I’ll see you soon, right Doc?” It’s sheepish, and a little wry. 

“Probably sooner than is good for your long-term health.” 

Patrick laughs and Francis can’t help thinking Patrick is really lucky for an unlucky man. He gets hurt so often, but tonight puts into perspective how lucky he’s been to avoid anything too serious. 

Patrick would probably be better off if Francis never saw him again, if he stopped doing whatever brought him into Francis’s clinic so often, but it’s a bittersweet thought and doesn’t come true anyway. 


End file.
